RWBY: Moon Reflection

After the episode with the mother and her daughters, Crimson returned to his dimly lit dwelling. The encounter lingered in his mind, stirring emotions he couldn't quite name—fragments of empathy tangled with the ever-present weight of guilt. Sitting cross-legged on the cold floor, he closed his eyes and resumed his meditation. The muted sounds of Kuchinashi filtered through the walls, blending with the turbulence of his thoughts. He sought clarity, but his mind twisted and turned, refusing to settle.

A week passed like this. Each day, Crimson wrestled with memories of his past and fragments of a future he couldn't yet see. On the seventh morning, he rose, his resolve crystallizing. It was time to leave. Kuchinashi, with its suffocating despair and endless cycle of violence, was a reflection of his own inner torment. Heading south toward the mountains, he prepared to face whatever path awaited him.

The mountain belt loomed on the horizon, a jagged natural wall dividing the lush expanse of the Hinoki Forest from the barren, unforgiving desert of Anima. The climb was perilous, the slopes steep and relentless. Loose stones shifted treacherously underfoot, and the narrow paths left no room for error. For most, the journey would have been impossible. But Crimson, hardened by years of combat and survival, ascended with precision and an unyielding will.

It took a grueling week to reach the summit. When he finally stood atop the mountain ridge, the sight before him made him pause. To the west, the Hinoki Forest stretched endlessly, its green canopy glimmering under the golden sunlight. To the east, the desert sprawled out in stark contrast, its vast sands shimmering with a harsh brilliance.

Crimson found a flat rock near the edge and sat down. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt a faint sense of peace. The contrast of the landscape resonated within him—a divided world, just like his own fractured soul. He remained still as the sun sank below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and crimson. The moon rose, heavy and luminous, casting its pale light across the opposing terrains. When dawn broke, the sky softened into gentle pastels, a quiet beauty that stirred something deep within him.

As the first rays of sunlight warmed his face, a voice broke the stillness.

"It's a beautiful view, isn't it?"

Crimson's body tensed. His hand instinctively moved toward his weapon as he turned sharply toward the source of the voice. What he saw froze him in place.

Standing a short distance away was a creature unlike any he had encountered. Its form was majestic, almost otherworldly. The being had the body of a lion, its golden fur shimmering with an ethereal glow. Its antlers, resembling those of a stag, stretched gracefully skyward, adorned with a faint, silvery luminescence. Feathered wings, wide and regal, rested folded against its sides, their colors shifting between the hues of twilight and dawn. Its eyes, deep and knowing, seemed to peer into Crimson's very soul.

The creature stepped closer, its movements deliberate and elegant. "You have climbed far to be here," it said, its voice calm yet resonant, like a flowing stream.

Crimson said nothing at first, his crimson eyes locked onto the being. This was no ordinary creature—it exuded an aura of immense power and timeless wisdom, both commanding respect and radiating gentleness.

Finally, Crimson spoke, his voice steady but low. "What are you?"

The creature tilted its head slightly, as if amused. "Perhaps you remember the fairy tale of the Shallow Sea?"

Crimson's eyes widened as recognition dawned on him. "God of Animals," he murmured.

The being hummed softly. "Yes, that is one of the names I am known by. Though, I prefer to be called the God of Harmony."

Crimson's gaze remained wary, though his curiosity piqued. "And may I ask why a god has manifested before me?"

The God of Harmony observed him for a moment, its deep gaze unwavering. "Long ago, I interfered in the world of mankind, seeking to bring harmony and end unnecessary conflict. Yet, for every conflict I quelled, another would arise. I grew disappointed in humanity's shallow nature and ceased my interventions. Still, I continued to watch."

Crimson listened silently, his mind racing as the god continued.

"Then, I saw you," the god said, its tone tinged with intrigue. "And my interest reignited. You fascinated me."

Crimson frowned, his confusion evident. "What are you talking about?"

The god's voice grew thoughtful. "You, a beacon of negativity—an intensity that shouldn't exist within a single soul. I saw your heart burn with guilt, sorrow and self-loathing. Your eyes can see what others can't, yet you don't have hopes or dreams. Now you have given up the time you have left, you want to be alone, to be forgotten."

Crimson felt a chill. "How long have you been watching me?"

"Since the Vytal Festival," the god replied. "I looked into your mind and memories. I have seen all you endured and every thought that crossed your mind."

Alarmed, Crimson's posture shifted, his body preparing to strike. The god raised a hand calmly. "Violence is unnecessary. I mean you no harm. You don't believe it, but you are a kind soul."

Crimson laughed bitterly at the absurd statement. "Kind soul? My victims would beg to differ."

The god shook its head. "You are a kind soul burdened by pride, misfortune, and a moment of weakness. You became what you are out of despair and helplessness, yet part of you has always regretted it. Over time, you have reflected on your choices, you humbled your pride, accepted your fate and did your best to change."

Crimson was silent for a long moment before speaking. "That doesn't make me kind. It makes me a monster trying to be human."

The god regarded him steadily. "And if a human can become a monster, why can't a monster strive to become human?"

Crimson's gaze fell to the ground. "Even if I piece together what I've lost, it won't be the same."

"Your guilt has become your god," the god said simply.

Crimson shook his head. "People cannot change the past. Someone has to bear the weight of their sins."

"What if I offered to take it away?" the god asked. "A clean slate—no memories, no guilt, no ties to bind you."

Crimson stilled for a moment, recalling the moment he became a demon—when he forgot the faces of those closest to him. His eyes hardened with resolve as he spoke firmly, "My scars are proof of my existence. I won't forget who I am."

The god seemed pleased. "Then you are more human than most. If others reflected as you do, this world would know more harmony."

Crimson exhaled. "I'm no example. I've just spent more time thinking than most."

The god chuckled softly. "More time than even immortals, it seems."

Crimson's brow furrowed. "Immortals?"

The god's gaze turned distant. "Two pitiful and foolish souls—Ozma and Salem. Their endless conflict has wrought much destruction upon this world, a war that has lasted for thousands of years. Yet neither of them has reflected or considered changing their ways"

Crimson blinked, his curiosity piqued. "And what does this have to do with me?"

The god returned its focus to him. "I offer you a chance at peace, but you must earn it through the method I deem fit."

Crimson smirked faintly. "Your methods didn't work in the story."

The god laughed. "True harmony is not guaranteed—it is a choice. If you spiral again into darkness, it will be yours alone."

Crimson thought silently then nodded slowly. "Fair. I'll accept your offer. I don't have anything to lose"

The god raised its hand, light enveloping Crimson as it spoke. "Then let us begin."

As the blinding light faded, Crimson's senses returned to him, but the world around him was unrecognizable. He was falling—plummeting through an endless void of shifting structures and eerie light. The space was otherworldly, a chaotic labyrinth of wooden platforms, walls, and beams that appeared and disappeared as if the castle itself was alive. The floors moved, shifting like the keys of a piano, rising and falling without rhythm. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, broken only by the faint echoes of creaking wood and an ominous melody that seemed to hum through the void.

Crimson's descent ended abruptly as he landed on a wooden platform. The impact was jarring, but he quickly rose to his feet, his eyes scanning his surroundings. He noticed his clothing had changed—his usual attire was gone, replaced by a deep purple kimono with an intricate black hexagonal pattern spread across it. His pants were now pitch black, blending with the shadows of the surreal castle. His sword was still at his side, though it felt different, now it seemed to glimmer faintly in the dim light.

High above him, a platform emerged from the shifting architecture. On it stood the God of Harmony, gazing down at Crimson with an inscrutable expression. Beside him sat a woman with long, flowing black hair adorned with a single hairpin, her fingers lightly plucking at the strings of a biwa. The haunting melody filled the space, echoing through the infinity castle and adding to the surreal atmosphere.

Crimson narrowed his eyes, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword taking in the familiar sight he thought he would never see again.

The God of Harmony's voice carried easily over the distance, calm and resolute. "This is your quest, the infinity castle. If you wish to find peace, you will fight for it."

Crimson scoffed, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "I didn't take you for the type to encourage violence, God of Harmony. Isn't conflict the very thing you seek to end?"

The god's gaze did not waver. "Peace is not born from passivity. Harmony does not exist without conflict. The resolution of chaos is what gives birth to order. You must face the darkness within and around you if you are to claim the peace you desire."

Before Crimson could reply, the God of Harmony raised a hand. "This quest will not be easy, Crimson. But nothing of true value ever is."

The god's form shimmered, beginning to dissolve into motes of light. As he faded, his voice echoed one last time, firm and final: "Peace comes after war. Harmony follows conflict. Prove yourself worthy of it."

With that, the God of Harmony vanished from sight, leaving Crimson standing alone on the platform. The haunting melody of the biwa lingered, a chilling reminder that the quest was about to begin.